What dawns on us but truth,
If not to convince the youth,
Like water from a fountain,
Whatever happens no excuse,
This is conversations with glory,
Face to face with time,
They hold banners of revolution
If the clock ticks past nine,
But after twelve its all hell,
though walls still stand like eyes through veil,
looking for salvation through a peephole in a cell,
like a priest and a king,
having dinner over bells.